با سلام خدمت تمامی مترجمان و علاقه مندان
برای سومین مسابقۀ ترجمه یک داستان کوتاه از نویسندۀ معاصر «آلیس مونرو» انتخاب کرده ایم. این نویسنده امسال برندۀ جایزۀ نوبل ادبیات شده است. برای اطلاع از زندگینامه و آثار این نویسنده می توانید به این آدرس مراجعه نمائید.
عنوان این داستان CHILD'S PLAY بوده و متن کامل آن در این آدرس قرار دارد.
I suppose there was talk in our house, afterwards.
How sad, how awful (My mother.)
There should have been supervision. Where were the Counselors? (My father.)
Just think, it might have-it might have been- (My mother.)
It wasn't. Just put that idea out of your head. It wasn't. (My father.)
It is even possible that if we ever passed the yellow house my mother said, "Remember? Remember you used to be so scared of her? The poor thing." My mother had a habit of hanging on to-even treasuring-the foibles of my distant infantile state.
Every year, when you're a child, you become a different person. Generally it's in the fall, when you re-enter school, take your place in a higher grade, leave behind the muddle and lethargy of the summer vacation. That's when you register the change most sharply. Afterwards you are not sure of the month or year, but the changes go on, just the same. For a long while the past drops away from you easily and, it would seem, automatically, properly. Its scenes don't vanish so much as become irrelevant. And then there's a switchback, what's been all over and done with sprouting up fresh, wanting attention, even wanting you to do something about it, though it's plain there is not on this earth a thing to be done.
Marlene and Charlene. People thought we must be twins. There was a fashion in those days for naming twins in rhyme. Bonnie and Connie. Ronald and Donald. And then of course we-Charlene and I-had matching hats. Coolie hats, they were called, wide shallow cones of woven straw with some sort of tie or elastic under the chin. They became familiar later on in the century, from television shots of the war in Vietnam. Men on bicycles riding along a street in Saigon would be wearing them, or women walking in the road against the background of a bombed village. It was possible at that time-I mean the time when Charlene and I were at camp–to say coolie without a thought of offense. Or darkie, or to talk about jawinga price down. I was in my teens, I think, before I ever related that verb to the noun. So we had those names and those hats, and at the first roll call the Counselor-the jolly one we liked, Mavis, though we didn't like her as well as the pretty one, Pauline pointed at us and called out, "Hey, Twins," and went on calling out other names before we had time to deny it.
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جایزۀ بهترین ترجمه: 1000000 ریال.
ترجمۀ برتر در وبلاگ منتشر خواهد شد.
معیارهای ارزیابی: انتقال مفهوم، حفظ سبک، پایبندی به نکات ویرایشی و زیبا بودن متن.